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WE PULLED UP TO THE safe house, and I turned off the engine. Glancing over, I saw that Clark was still asleep. I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. She stirred, opening her eyes long enough to figure out that we were home.
“Here we are,” I said softly.
She yawned, unfolding herself from the car seat and climbing out. I followed her up the front porch steps and into the cabin, where she attempted to check for hidden bad guys. I took her by the elbow and led her to the bedroom, helping her into the bed.
“I’ll check the house,” I said, taking a quick peek into the closet and under the bed before turning out the lights.
She needed her rest, and I needed a chance to think. Because I promised her I would, I took a minute to open all the doors and check the shower for intruders. Then I put in a call to Graham to give him the information I had gleaned that night. After hanging up, I called Reg to check in.
“We’re pulling you out,” Reg said.
“What?” I demanded. “Why?”
“Not my decision,” Reg replied.
I wanted to object, to claim that we were getting close to a resolution, but the truth was that we were just as far away as we had ever been. I had no idea where the missing agents were, and I was beginning to feel like our intel was faulty. I expressed those opinions to Reg, but that didn’t change anything.
“Get to the airport,” he commanded.
“Clark is asleep,” I replied.
“We’re separating the two of you,” Reg said. “She’s going back to Washington.”
“Does she know that?” I asked.
“You’d have to talk to the CIA,” Reg replied. “All I can say is that you’re needed back in London.”
I sighed. It would have been nice to have a few moments to spend with Clark after she woke up. I didn’t want to leave while she was still asleep, but I didn’t want to disturb her either. There was no good option that wouldn’t make me look like a jerk, so I simply grabbed my things and left.
I was too much of a gentleman to take the only car. She might need it to get wherever she was going. So instead, I walked a good mile away from the safehouse before helping myself to a vehicle.
I rendezvoused with the flight just in time and got on board. It was a commercial flight, but I was ushered in the back way so that I didn’t have to wait in line. Once I took my seat among the other travelers, no one could tell the difference. Occasionally, we had to make use of public transportation, and it always made me long for the luxury of private jets.
“Excuse me ma’am?” I asked the stewardess. “May I have a drink?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “What would you like?”
“Vodka martini,” I replied.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she answered with a shake of her head. “That type of drink is only available to our first class passengers.”
I rolled my eyes. Stuck in the back with the regular folks, I wasn’t even afforded the opportunity for a good drink. “What can I get?”
“I could get you a beer,” she suggested.
“Sure,” I agreed. “Do you have a stout?”
“We have Coors and Coors Light,” she chirped, seeming not to understand the difference between cheap American swill and real beer.
“I’ll have water,” I said, giving up on the whole thing altogether.
“Certainly,” she replied, ignoring my distress. She returned with a plastic water bottle about the size of a tennis ball.
I looked at my seating companion, who was trying very hard not to laugh at me. She was a young woman in her late teens who wore AirPods and was surgically attached to her phone. Still, she managed to come up for air long enough to realize the kind of pain I was in. I gave her a tight smile and opened my miniature water.
On the ground in London, I went straight to MI6 headquarters. I didn’t stop for a shower or a meal. I didn’t even indulge myself with a drink to make up for the abysmal service of the corporate airline. It was imperative to sort out some of the misgivings I had about my most recent assignment.
Reg was in his office, going over some notes on a tablet. He glanced up as I walked in and offered me a seat. “How was the flight?”
“Awful,” I said.
“We couldn’t get a private jet in there without arousing suspicion,” Reg explained.
“It’s Athens not Kabul,” I declared.
Reg shook his head. “Not my call.”
“What is your call?” I asked.
If there was someone I had to deal with over my handler’s head, then maybe that’s where I needed to go. I didn’t appreciate being jerked around, and I felt like that was exactly what was happening. First, I was thrust together with Clark and we wanted to kill each other. Then when we found our groove and finally began to work well as a team, we were separated without consultation.
“I know you’re upset,” Reg began.
“I’m not upset,” I corrected him. “This isn’t some customer service complaint. I’ve got serious concerns about this mission, and you’re ignoring them.”
“Tell me about your concerns,” Reg suggested, opening his arms to give me the floor.
“To start, I don’t think Vinny Carmini knew anything. I’m not even sure how closely involved in the kidnappings he was.”
“Based on?”
“Based on shooting him in the thigh and leaving him stranded after escaping a house party. He gave me some names. Have you ever heard of Southie?” I tried, settling down now that Reg was actually listening.
Reg shook his head.
“He’s supposed to be in London,” I disclosed. “Vinny said he would know where the missing agents were. Also, a man named Lukas, who is apparently part of Dark Sparrow.”
“This is good information,” Reg said.
“This is nothing,” I complained.
“Go home,” Reg suggested. “Have a meal, take a shower.”
“What about Clark?” I asked, feeling defeated.
“She’ll meet us here in London in a few days,” Regg replied. “I just got word from Washington; they’re sending her back.”
That was welcome news. I wasn’t sure how I felt about anyone in my department now, but I trusted Clark. She could help me get to the bottom of whatever was going on. Reg was a good friend, and Graham had never steered me wrong, but I couldn’t help thinking that something was fishy inside MI6.
If “Southie” was a real person, and he or she was stationed in London, didn’t it stand to reason that they were part of British Intelligence? Maybe even a double agent? If Dark Sparrow had someone on the inside, then maybe that’s why the whole trip to Athens felt like a wild goose chase.
With nothing else to do and no sleep for the past twenty-four hours, I returned to my penthouse to think. Coming home should have felt wonderful. My place was a safe house of sorts where nobody knew who I was or what I did for the government. My secret identity, as it were, was that of an international banker. I flew all across the world to different trade shows and occasionally brought back stories for my neighbors.
If anyone asked, this time I would tell them I went to Texas. I never once told the truth about my activities, but I enjoyed making up stories to impress people. But luckily, no one stopped me in the elevator or approached me in the hall.
I managed to make it to my own private space without having to fib, and for that, I was deeply grateful. Not that it bothered me so much, but I felt like it separated me from the rest of humanity in a way I wasn’t sure that I liked anymore.
I missed Clark. For all her flaws, she was at least someone I could be honest with. I knew next to nothing about her past, and she knew even less about mine. But the fundamentals of who we were and what we were trying to accomplish had been shared.
I pulled my tie off and set it on the couch. My room afforded me a wonderful view of the London skyline. I wasn’t poor, and though I spent enough time in hovels and basements, when I was home, I preferred to be on top.
I thought of my yacht and the vacation that had been cut short. Maybe I could work my way back there sometime. Maybe Clark could even accompany me. As soon as I had that thought, I banished it to the farthest reaches of my mind. It was ridiculous to contemplate going on vacation with a foreign agent. The optics would be bad, not to mention that if anyone got wind of it, they would surely use it against us.
The intelligence game lent itself to one-night stands, not serious relationships. Anyone who worked for MI6 who had a spouse walked a difficult line between love and betrayal. Feelings for someone could get you killed. And I knew that Clark suffered guilt over the loss of her previous lover. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to get involved with someone else on the job ever again.
I dropped my clothing as I walked toward the bathroom. Living alone, it didn’t seem necessary to wait until I had closed the door to get undressed. First I would take a shower, and then I would eat a large meal courtesy of some takeout service. And finally, I would crawl into bed, where I would be free to dream of a life outside the service.
I had my evening’s festivities all planned out for myself, but as I sat in front of the television, watching some dull comedy feature, I felt an itch I needed to scratch. Like some love-struck teenager, I stared at my phone, wondering if I should give her a call.
The Indian food sat half-eaten on the table in front of me, somehow not quite as satisfying as I’d hoped. Though I was extremely tired, I didn’t want to turn off the lights. The question of Southie nagged at me, but it was more than that.
I’d walked out on Clark without even saying goodbye. If what Reg said was true, and she would be joining us in London in a few days, I wanted to make sure we were still on good terms. I had a healthy respect for her prowess on the battlefield and no desire to end up on her bad side once again.
My finger hovered over the call button, debating. Should I call her? Would she even want to talk to me? Would she understand that I had no choice in my travel plans and that I had opted to let her sleep out of concern for her well-being? Did she harbor any feelings for me at all?
Finally, I bit the bullet and made the call. It was better to be rejected than to sit there deliberating all night long. At least if she told me to shove it, I could go to sleep knowing where I stood.
When she answered the phone on the third ring, I was shocked to hear delight in her voice. “Theo!” she said, warming up to me from thousands of miles away.
“Hello,” I responded, grateful that I didn’t have to explain anything. We were still on the same page, and she didn’t hold my disappearing act against me. “How have you been?”
We talked for a long time, not about where we had been or what we had done, since there was no guarantee that the line was secure. Rather, we talked about stupid things like movies and fashion, things that anyone might talk about if they were getting to know someone. But the only real message that was communicated between us was one of mutual respect. We were just saying words to hear each other speak, trading consonants and vowels so that we could stay in touch. After more than a half an hour, I finally got around to asking her where she was. To my surprise, she admitted that she was already in London.
